Be There
by KJ-MonkeyJunkie3
Summary: Not many people remember me, but I remember being there. For all of it. From the first year with a scrawny boy with messy black hair, a redheaded boy, and a bossy, know-it-all girl, to the seventh year with a wedding, a life-shattering battle, and the end of everything. I remember the lives we lost, and most of all, I remember the lives who touched mine.
1. Prologue: Just So You Know

A/N: Hullo, everyone! So this is something that I've had in my head for a long time, and I thought that since I don't really have much else going on here, I'd write it down and post it. I'd like to just preface this by saying that I'm not thrilled with this intro, but I wanted to just set up the story. Also, I'm not really sure how comfortable I am writing in first person, but I want to try all different kinds of perspectives and writing styles, so cut me a little slack if it's not amazing - but don't hesitate to let me know what needs to be fixed, or if you have any questions, or anything. I live for reviews, so please please please leave some feedback, and tell me what you like and don't like or what should be changed or what doesn't make sense.

Ummm... Oh, yeah. Juliet and her family are the only things that are mine; everything else (including quite alot of the dialogue and plot) is J.K.'s, and well done, her. She's great.

So, thank y'all for reading - Intro and Chapter 1 this week, and if y'all like it, I'll post some more. I hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

Introduction

_My name is Juliet Nerissa Pontmercy. You may not have heard of me, and that wouldn't surprise me at all. My friends and my husband like to joke that I'm the forgotten member of Harry Potter's gang, and I've never really minded – I suppose I'm not that interesting. But I thought maybe I could write my story, just to clear things up for the future generations of my family. Who knows? Maybe someday, somebody outside the family will even read it. In any case, here goes. _

My mum was English – a pureblood, although she and her brothers were some of the only ones left in the family – but then, her brothers didn't marry purebloods, either. My dad was French. They met when she was a sixth year at Hogwarts and he was a seventh year at Beauxbatons, at the Quidditch World Cup. She'd caught his eye the first day their families had arrived at the campsite, they'd gotten to know each other over the week they were there before the World Cup had actually started, and the rest, as they say, is history. My Uncle Cassius married a Muggle, who taught a literature class at a local high school, and my other uncle, Oswald, married a Muggle-born witch whose parents both worked in television. Well, as soon as they met my mum, my aunts made it their goal to introduce her to the wonders of Muggle culture, particularly Muggle literature and television. While Mum wasn't particularly impressed with the television, she became obsessed with William Shakespeare, and that's how my name came about.

Now the difficult stuff. My dad was killed in the First Wizarding War, while my mum was pregnant with me, and she kind of lost it. I mean, she could still function, but they'd been together for ten years by the time I came along, and it's difficult to just have to carry on when the biggest part of your life just isn't there anymore. Anyways, my aunts and uncles stepped in to help with me, I went to a regular Muggle school until I was eleven, and then I received my letter from Hogwarts.


	2. First Year: One For the Road

Please review!

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**First Year: ****One For the Road**

"Close your eyes!"

"They're closed," I insist, my eyes scrunched tightly closed and covered with my hands for good measure.

"Promise?"

"I promise!" I giggle, waiting for my promised surprise.

"Okay, just a moment…" I wait as patiently as I can manage.

A few moments pass, and finally, I hear, "Alright, open up!"

I open my eyes and can't suppress a squeal of delight as I see a woman with closely-cropped blonde hair cradling a tiny, squirming Calico kitten with a red ribbon around its neck against her. "Oh, it's a kitten! It's so cute! What's its name?"

The tall, broad-shouldered man beside her grins and takes the cat from her. "You get to choose her name. It's for you, Juliet. It's your kitten to take to Hogwarts with you."

I squeal again as he hands the kitten to me. "Really?" They nod, and I cuddle the little critter against me. "Thank you, Uncle Cassius!" I hug him. "Thank you, Aunt Lucy!" I give her a big hug as well, and the kitten mews in protest at being squished in between us. I hold her up so that I can see her. "Hmmmm… What shall I name you? You look like an… Ophelia. Yeah, that's your name. Ophelia."

Uncle Cassius chuckles and pulls out his wand. He murmurs a spell, and the bow around Ophelia's neck is transformed into a beautiful, sparkling collar with an inscription reading, 'Ophelia Pontmercy' on the back of it.

"I never get tired of seeing things like that," Aunt Lucy sighs. Aunt Lucy is a Muggle.

"Now you're all set for school," Uncle Cassius grins. "I know your Uncle Oswald and Aunt Cressida bought you a broomstick-" here, he winks, "for next year, of course," I giggle, and he continues, "But we wanted to get you something for your first year of Hogwarts as well, so we decided that you needed a friend to take with you."

I beam up at him. "Thank you! I love her already!"

Aunt Lucy grins. "Good. And we'll give you your kisses now, because your mother has said that she'll take you to the station in the morning. Are you excited?"

I stick one thumb up, as my other hand is busy with keeping a hold on Ophelia. "Absolutely!"

My mum takes me to Platform 9¾ and kisses me on the cheek. "Be good. Learn lots," she commands, and I nod just as the train lets out a shrill whistle to tell all of the students to board. She bundles me onto a car towards the end, and I set Ophelia's crate on the bench before leaning out the window to wave at my mum, who, to my disappointment, is already gone. I head back out the door to pull my trunks inside and nearly bump into a boy with messy black hair and round glasses framing bright green eyes. "Sorry," he mumbles.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "You want to sit in here?"

"Would you mind?" He asks.

I shake my head. "Of course not. I'd feel terrible having this whole compartment to myself."

"Thanks," he leans in and sets a cage with a really lovely snowy owl on the seat. "I'm Harry."

"Juliet Pontmercy," I reply primly, and we head back off the train to fetch our trunks.

Harry grabs one of mine and pulls on it for a moment before stopping to raise his eyebrows. "What've you got in here, anyways?"

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it. Come on. I'll get the other end."

We each take a handle and, straining, manage to get it up onto the bottom step before we give up and drop it again. "How'd you get it this far, anyways?" Harry asks.

"My mum... used magic," I breathe deeply. "Come on, then. Let's try again. Maybe we can get it up one more step before we take another break."

"Want a hand?" A boy with red hair and freckles appears from nowhere, but seems to know Harry – at least as much as I do.

"Yes, please," Harry pants, adjusting his glasses.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!" The boy motions to another boy who looks exactly like him, and between the four of us, we manage to get all of our trunks into the compartment.

"Blimey," the first twin groans. "What you got in there?"

"Just… books and things," I shrug sheepishly.

Harry and the other twin bring in the last trunk. "Thanks," Harry says, brushing his hair off of his forehead.

"What's that?" One of the twins point at something on Harry's forehead, and I do a quick double-take when I realize that it's a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Blimey," the other twin speaks up. "Are you—"

"He is," his brother interrupts. "Aren't you?" he turns to Harry.

"What?" Harry asks, not following.

"Harry Potter," they say at the same time.

"Oh, him," Harry nods. "I mean, yes, I am."

The twins fall silent, and as Harry turns red, I realize that maybe I should change the subject. Luckily, at that moment, another voice does that for me. "Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom," the twins disappear back out of the car.

I shoot a glance at Harry. "That was good, not mentioning your last name when you introduced yourself. Sly."

"I wasn't trying to hide anything," he shakes his head.

I grin at him. "I know. Doesn't matter anyways, though, does it? Just because you're Harry Potter doesn't mean you'll be any better than the rest of us at Potions or Care of Magical Creatures."

He smiles back nervously. "I guess not."

"Just don't expect any special treatment from me, is all I'm saying," I smirk.

His smile widens a bit. "I won't."

"Good," I giggle, and glance out the window, where I see the twins with another redheaded boy, a redheaded woman who must be their mother, and a little redheaded girl who looks just a bit younger than I am.

"Where's Percy?" their mother asks.

"He's coming now."

Another redhead appears, already in his Hogwarts robes and with a Prefect's badge on his chest. "Can't stay long, Mother," he intones. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves -"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" asks one of the twins, acting shocked. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," the other twin pipes up. "Once -"

"Or twice -"

"A minute -"

"All summer -"

"Oh, shut up," Percy snaps.

I glance over at Harry, who's also watching the scene with an expression of amusement and slight envy about him. Then the twins mention his name and he glances away, embarrassed.

A moment later, a whistle sounds, and the redheaded boys pile onto the train, waving at their mother and sister. The train lurches to a start, and after a few minutes, the youngest redhead enters our compartment. "Anyone sitting there?" he motions to the empty spots. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry and I shake our heads, and the boy sits down across from me, next to Harry. He's got a black smudge on his nose.

"Hey, Ron," The twins reappear, grinning at us through the door. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

The newest addition to our compartment mumbles, "Right."

"Harry," the first twin says. "Did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother."

"And you are?" the other twin motions to me with his chin.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Juliet Pontmercy."

"Cool," the first twin nods. "Well, see you later, then."

"Bye," Harry, Ron and I chorus. The door slides shut behind them, and once Ron has got all the 'Harry Potter' questions out of the way, we settle into conversation about our families.

Are all your family wizards?" Harry asks.

"Er - Yes, I think so," Ron replies. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

Ron shrugs and turns to me. "And what about your family?"

"Well, I'm pureblooded, but my Uncle Cassius is married to a Muggle," Ron's eyebrows shoot up, and I continue proudly, "And my Uncle Oswald is married to a Muggle-born." I stare evenly back at him, daring him to take issue with my family's Muggle relations.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," Ron turns back to Harry, the mention of Muggles apparently piquing his interest. "What are they like?"

"Horrible -well, not all of them," he amends, glancing at me. "My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," Ron corrects him. He slumps down in his seat a bit. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

He pulls a fat, grey rat out of his jacket and shows us, and I, in turn, take Ophelia out of her crate and show her proudly to Harry and Ron. Ron watches her distrustfully at first, until I point out that she's much too small to eat any rats just yet, especially one as big as Scabbers. He warms up to her – and me – a bit after that. Harry then tells us about living with Muggles and finding out he's a wizard, and we chat idly and watch the scenery from the window until the trolley lady comes by and asks if we want anything. I buy a few of my favorite things with some of the money that Uncle Oswald gave me as a 'starting Hogwarts' gift, but Harry buys some of everything and dumps it onto the bench between him and Ron. Ron places his sandwiches in the pile, and I add the pack lunch from Aunt Lucy and the treats that I've just bought, and we pick through and eat at all of it, discussing chocolate frog cards and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans until we're interrupted by a round-faced boy who's looking for a toad.

We tell him we haven't seen one, and the boy wails, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Harry reassures him.

"Yes, well, if you see him…" he trudges away, and Ron starts going on about turning Scabbers yellow.

Just then, the compartment door slides open again, and the round-faced boy is back, this time with another girl with bushy brown hair and big buckteeth. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron replies, his wand still hovering over the rat in his lap.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then," she sits down beside me, and I shrug at Ron, who attempts his spell – and fails.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asks. "Well, it's not very good, is it?" She continues on for awhile, then ends her monologue with, "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are you?"

We introduce ourselves – Harry last, and she begins talking again, about Harry Potter, and books, and houses, and I tune out and begin absently playing with Ophelia until the girl leaves, pulling the other boy behind her. She leaves, and somehow we end up on the subject of Quidditch – which I know about. Ron and I begin chattering enthusiastically about it, while Harry looks on, puzzled, until the compartment door slides open again.

I look up, irritated to be interrupted now that we've got onto a subject that I actually care about, and find myself glaring at a pale boy with angular features and a sneer. "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," Harry replies resignedly.

The boy introduces the other two who've come with him – Crabbe and Goyle – and then himself: "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron sniggers, and Malfoy turns on him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

I narrow my eyes at him, now doubly irritated, and when the boy goes a step too far in his insulting drawl, Harry and Ron, and more impressively, Scabbers, send them slinking back down the hall. The bossy girl reappears, asking about the commotion and instructing us to change into our robes. She points out the smudge on Ron's nose, which I had all but forgotten about, then flounces away down the hall. I roll my eyes at the boys – Ron sniggers – and excuse myself to change into my robes, leaving Ophelia in her crate and changing as quickly as I can in the loo before joining the mob of students in the corridor to await our arrival at Hogwarts.


	3. First Year: Not a Fan

Here's Chapter 2... If by the end of first year, there's still no response, I'll probably scrap this... In any case, if you like or don't like, please review and let me know what you think!

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I'm sat on a stool in the front of the Great Hall, and Professor McGonagall is lowering the Sorting Hat onto my head. It only takes a second or two before it calls, "GRYFFINDOR!" and as the Gryffindor table cheers, I skip over to it and sit down beside Ron's twin brothers from before, who are applauding primly, their noses stuck in the air; despite their smug expressions, they're unable to hold back goofy smirks. As I take my seat, the one farthest from me sticks out his hand. "Jolly good to have you with us, Old Sport. In case you'd forgotten, I'm Fred Weasley. This is my brother George – also a Weasley. You'll come to learn that George and I are rather the best Beaters that Gryffindor has ever had on their Quidditch team."

I shake his hand, but narrow my eyes at him. "Oh, really? Well, in case you'd forgotten, I'm Juliet Pontmercy, and I think you'll find that I'm rather the best Chaser that Gryffindor has not yet had on their team."

Both of the twins' faces split into identical wicked grins, and George says, "You're alright, then. We'll keep that in mind."

The sorting goes on, once Harry's been sorted into Gryffindor and taken a seat on my other side, I stop paying attention – at least until it's Ron's turn. "So, are you gonna try out for the team?" Fred wants to know.

"Not this year," I shrug. "There's no point – I've heard all the team needs this year is a Seeker, and I hate playing Seeker. Next year, though, you'll be short a Chaser, and that's when I'll step up and save the day."

George raises his eyebrows. "Awfully sure of yourself for a first year."

"My uncles are Cassius and Oswald Milborough – maybe you've heard of them?" I smirk.

Fred and George rear back, impressed. "Really? Cassius Milborough, the Seeker who won the Quidditch World Cup six years in a row?"

"And Oswald Milborough, the best Keeper that Puddlemere United have ever had?"

I nod. "That's them. We're a Quidditch family. And my Uncles have taught me loads – and they promised they wouldn't stop teaching me until I've learned everything they know. I know I'll be good at Quidditch. I'm not sure about everything else, but I'm sure about Quidditch."

It's Ron's turn now, and Harry, Percy, the twins and I all turn to watch as the Sorting Hat shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!" We all clap – maybe out of relief – as Ron collapses down into the seat beside Harry, and we wait for Dumbledore to make his speech so that we can eat. I turn and begin chatting with the twins, while I see that Hermione and Percy are talking animatedly about Transfiguration, and Harry and Ron are conversing with the boy with the toad, Neville, about his magical heritage.

* * *

I climb the stairs to the girls' dormitory, unable to escape Hermione, who's keeping pace with me, chattering non-stop. We reach our room, accompanied by Lavender Brown, one of the Patil twins – I can't remember which off the top of my head – and another girl who isn't chattering or giggling loudly, although her name escapes me at the moment as well, I'm so tired. Finally, I turn to Hermione and say, "I'm exhausted. But we can talk more tomorrow after our classes," then fall into bed without even changing into pajamas and am asleep within seconds.

* * *

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." I listen raptly as Professor Snape speaks to the class, but only because I'm sat next to Draco Malfoy and paying attention seems to be the only way to get him to stop talking. Then, Snape stops his introduction to pick on Harry, and I scowl at him, then turn see Malfoy fixing to say something and quickly look back up at the Professor, holding up a hand to silence him.

* * *

It's finally the moment I've been waiting for since I got on the Hogwarts Express – Flying Lessons. I've been arguing with Ron for the last week about whose broom story is better – his about almost hitting a hang glider on Charlie's old broom, or mine about being chased around by a hawk who seemed to think I would be quite the meal. Uncle Oswald had actually had to stun the hawk so that I could get on the ground again.

Hermione has been reading excerpts from flying books to us all day, and Neville Longbottom is also clearly quite nervous about it as well. However, as we approach the twenty or so lined-up brooms, I find it hard to care what everyone else is feeling, as my excitement mounts. As Harry, Ron and I make our way down to the lawn across from the Forbidden Forest, Fred and George make their way past and smack my shoulder reassuringly, grinning cheekily at me. We reach the twenty lined up brooms on the lawn, and I smile at Malfoy, then motion for him to be quiet as Madam Hooch arrives and instructs us all to line up beside a broomstick. I glance down at my broom and grimace distastefully. It's old, the handle is worn down, and the twigs stick out at angles that I'm fairly certain they weren't manufactured to stick out at.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch instructs, "And say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" We all shout, and to my smug satisfaction, my broom flies right into my hand. I glance around and see that Harry's has done the same, as has Malfoy's.

Madam Hooch moves down the line, showing us how to mount our brooms and correcting our grips. When she reaches me, she winks and says, "I imagine your uncles have trained you up a spot, eh?" I nod eagerly, and she grins and moves on. She reaches the end and orders, "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

But Neville has kicked off just slightly too hard and is rising through the air at an alarming rate. When he's twenty feet off the ground, he slips sideways, then panics and lets go, landing with a loud THUD on the ground. Madam Hooch hurries over to him and leans over him. "Broken wrist," she mutters, then helps him to his feet. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

She turns to the rest of us. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." She leads a tear-streaked Neville away.

As soon as they're out of earshot, Draco bursts out laughing. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" The other Slytherins join in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," I snap.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy Parkinson, a sneering Slytherin girl screeches. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Pontmercy!"

I roll my eyes at her and turn to Hermione, who's holding her broom helplessly, looking at it like it's about to turn around and bite her. "You know, it'll never behave the way you want it to if you keep looking at it like that."

She scowls at me. "It's not like I'm ever going to be a Quidditch player. I only need to get through this lesson."

"Look!" Malfoy snatches something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." He holds up Neville's Remembrall.

"Give that here, Malfoy," Harrry steps forward, glaring. I glance away from Hermione, and everyone else stops their talking to watch Harry and Malfoy.

Malfoy smiles unpleasantly. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about… up in a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry shouts, but Malfoy leaps onto his broomstick and pushes off. I raise my eyebrows – he's not a bad flier.

"Come and get it, Potter!" Malfoy taunts.

Harry grabs his broom. "No!" Hermione yells. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble!"

Harry ignores her and takes off after Malfoy. My jaw drops. He's never flown before, and he's absolutely amazing – at least as good as me, if not better. The other girls around us squeal and gasp, and Ron lets out and admiring whoop. I smirk at Malfoy's stunned expression as Harry pulls up level with him. "Give it here," he demands, "Or I'll knock you off ythat broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" Malfoy seems a bit unsure of himself now.

Harry leans forward and shoots toward Malfoy, who dives out of the way just in time. "No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy!" Harry calls.

Malfoy's nerve seems to dissipate, and he tosses the Remembrall high into the air. "Catch it if you can, then!" He zooms back toward the ground, but no one's paying any attention to him as we watch Harry diving after the Remembrall, streaking toward the ground, then catches it a foot off the ground, pulls his broom straight, then topples to the ground, the glass ball clenched safely in his hand.

I gape at him, then start as we hear, "HARRY POTTER!" Professor McGonagall is running toward us. Harry gets to his feet, visibly terrified. "Never – in all my time at Hogwarts –" she's furious as she sputters, " – how dare you – you might have broken your neck –"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor –" I speak up.

"Be quiet, Miss Patil," Professor McGonagall shushes me.

Ron tries, "But Malfoy –"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now." She leads him toward the castle, and I exchange an uneasy glance with Ron.

I tear my eyes away from Harry and McGonagall's retreating backs and see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle smirking victoriously. I feel my face heating up, and I stomp toward him. "You just wait until McGonagall gets the whole story, Malfoy. You'll be out of here before Harry can even get his bags packed," I snap, putting a hand on Malfoy's chest and shoving him backward. "We all saw what happened; no one's ever going to believe you and your apes."

Crabbe and Goyle step forward menacingly, but at that moment, Madam Hooch hurries toward us, calling, "Miss Pontmercy! That will be quite enough! You get back to your broom and if I see you near Mr. Malfoy again during this lesson, I'll put you in detention so fast it'll make your head spin, am I understood?"

I step back from Malfoy and nod. "Sorry, Madam Hooch." I reach my broom and stand beside it, casting a withering glare at Malfoy, whose smirk disappears.


End file.
